


The Nature of Trust

by Lynds



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Arthur Finds Out, Canon Era, Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt Merlin, Implied/Referenced Torture, Lancelot Lives, Leon is so done, Leon is the Mum Friend, Merlin's Magic Revealed, Protective Gwaine, reference to hunting and cooking animals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-03
Updated: 2018-03-23
Packaged: 2019-03-26 12:21:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 11,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13857684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lynds/pseuds/Lynds
Summary: Leon starts to notice that the knights, one by one, are starting to trust Merlin's judgement. That he keeps warning Arthur about danger, and being right. Is there more to Merlin than meets the eye?





	1. Lancelot

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pt_tucker](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pt_tucker/gifts).



> This is my first Fandom Trumps Hate fic for the lovely PT_Tucker, who requested Arthur (or the knights) actually TRUSTING Merlin after he'd been proven right so often, with a bit of outsider POV (which turned into, like ALL outsider POV!) It's all done, bar the inevitable edits, and I'll be updating every 3 days. 
> 
> It's set in a sort of nebulous time somewhere between series 4 and 5, but I decided I couldn't do without Lancelot, so he stays because... I said so? I'm sorry i couldn't figure out a time where this would actually fit into canon, but I needed Arthur to be King, but for the Knights to still be going out for ridiculous adventures, and didn't want to have to deal with Mordred. I hope you like it!

Leon didn’t think much of it at first. After all, Merlin was a servant, and Arthur was the King, and had trained for years in strategy. Why on earth _would_ he listen?

“Sire, please, trust me. You can’t go in there.” Merlin’s voice was low and his hand gripped the King’s cloak at his shoulder.

“Merlin,” he said on a sigh, “what is your problem? We know the bandits are in the barn, the blacksmith told us so. What do you want us to do, turn tail and run?”

“I just… I want you to be careful,” he said, trailing off. “I’ve got a bad feeling about it.”

“Well, excuse me if I don’t put much stake in your ‘feelings’, Merlin. We’re not a group of girls, and we have a job to do. Now stand aside, will you?”

Merlin’s shoulders slumped as Arthur pushed past him, crouching low as the snow-dusted wall dipped closer to the barn. Leon chuckled and patted Merlin on the shoulder as he followed. The boy worried too much. He hung back as Arthur gave his orders to the rest of the knights, on watch for any guards who might spot them and ruin the ambush.

“What is it, Merlin?” He heard Lancelot asking him in a whisper, and frowned. Sir Lancelot should be moving forwards to hear his own orders.

“It’s a trap, I know it,” Merlin whispered back. “I can feel it, there’s something wrong. I’m coming too.”

“Absolutely not,” Leon hissed, and the two men jumped. “Lancelot, go to the king. Merlin, you’re staying here with the horses.”

“But—“

“But nothing, you’ll do more harm than good. You’ll just get in the way, you know you’re not trained for combat!”

“Leon—“

“Shhh!” he snapped, and shook his head. “Stay there, do you hear me?” Arthur was leading the men forwards, and he glared at Merlin one last time. Honestly, did Merlin even know what Arthur would do if he came to any harm?

He followed the King’s signals, advancing forward into the barn, entirely focused on his team and their target. A gust of wind blew a flurry of powdered snow off the skeleton trees and the tiny crystals caught in Leon’s beard, piercing his skin with cold. He blinked them away and focused. 

His ears sharpened, sounds detected and discarded as they were judged non-threatening, his eyes flickering to the trees, the barn door, the other knights as they approached. Arthur waved him and Bedevere on to the side of the building, and they peered around, on watch as Arthur led the charge into the barn.

And then the world around them erupted.

Stones flew outwards followed by searing green flame, and Leon’s ears rang as he sat up. Ash fell from the sky, following the heavier frozen dirt that had been kicked up by the explosion, and Leon blinked, trying to focus as he sought his number one priority, his king.

He raced over to Arthur’s slumped form, the only sound the pumping of his blood in his ears. Merlin reached him first, pulling him around and yelling something to Leon. He could see his mouth moving but hear nothing, and Merlin waved him on before turning back to Arthur. He nodded as if he understood, and joined Lancelot and Percival helping the other fallen men.

Lancelot, a trail of blood running down the side of his forehead, looked up and spoke to him. He stared blankly. Lance held his chin, looking over his face, and then turned to the side and shouted “Merlin!” Leon could read the word on his lips. Why was Lancelot distracting Merlin? He should be focusing on Arthur. Leon blinked. He was exhausted. The light was too bright, stars flickering around his vision. He should just close his eyes. That would be better. He could stay out of the way, have a rest and then come back to work refreshed. Yes. He just needed to close his eyes.

***

“Will he be OK?”

“Yes, sire. He will probably be sensitive to light and loud noises, but—“

A crash sent a spike of pain through Leon’s head, and he groaned. He lifted his hand to cover it, hold his head together as it felt like it was splitting apart, and was horrified at how weak his limbs felt. He could barely lift his arm without it shaking.

“Merlin!”

“Sorry! Sorry, Leon, I didn’t mean to, I know it must hurt really badly, you took one hell of a tumble there, but I—“

“For heaven’s sake, Merlin, will you shut up?”

“Shutting up, sire.”

Leon cracked one eye open and sat up slowly. Gaius and Merlin were both quick to help him, so he figured he was back in the castle already.

“Leon,” said Arthur, and Leon blinked and squinted up at his king. “Good to have you back.”

“How long have I been out, sire?”

“Nearly thirty six hours. You seem to have caught the brunt of the blast.” Arthur scowled off to the side. “There must have been a sorcerer, that green fire wasn’t natural. I should have been more cautious.”

“Did they get away?”

“Sadly yes. We were lucky to escape with only minimal casualties, but it still irks to have failed to capture them. We have scouts out in the surrounding villages to see if they can track any trace of them.” He shook his head, the furrow between his eyebrows deepening. “The attacks should have stopped that day, but Camelot’s villagers are still in danger.”

“At least you have more information now, sire,” said Gaius. 

Arthur straightened up and nodded. “Indeed.” He nodded at Leon. “It’s good to see you well, Sir Leon,” he smiled.

“And you, sir,” he said back, wincing against the light as Arthur pushed the door open to leave. Merlin patted his shoulder and fed him a pain potion and he sighed back onto the pillows. “Was anyone else hurt?”

Merlin squeezed his arm. “Two killed, I’m afraid. Lionel and Bleoberis. Everyone else just had minor injuries.”

Leon nodded, his heart sinking for his two knights. He would visit their families as soon as he left here, carry their tales of bravery. Just before he drifted off to sleep he found himself wondering how Lionel and Bleoberis had been killed, while Arthur, who had stood in front of them, was unharmed.


	2. Gwaine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A hunting trip goes awry

“I don’t like this.”

Arthur sighed and rolled his eyes. “You don’t like this, Merlin, because you’re riding through the forest in the rain when you’d rather be in your warm bed.”

“Can you blame me?” he retorted. “But that’s not what I mean. Something feels wrong.”

“You and your feelings,” Arthur said, exasperated.

“Don’t worry, Merlin,” said Elyan, patting him on his shoulder. “We’ll keep you safe from the scary deer.”

“I should hope so too,” snorted Merlin. “Have you seen the antlers on those things? But that’s still not what I meant. Arthur, please, can’t we hunt up on the ridge? The valley is —“

“A better hunting ground? Easier for the horses? Dryer? Which one of those do you have a problem with, Merlin?”

Merlin gave Arthur a flat stare, and Leon rolled his eyes. Those two were such children. He was amazed they didn’t resort to sticking their tongues out at each other.

“What do you mean something feels wrong?” Gwaine asked, nudging his horse’s ribs to overtake Percival.

“Oh, not you too,” groaned Arthur. “Don’t tell me, Gwaine, you’ve also got a feeling in your waters? I think that’s just the lack of alcohol. When the world stops spinning, that means you’re becoming sober. Say it with me - _so-ber_. I know it’s been a while, but —“

“You just don’t know how to have fun, Princess,” Gwaine grinned, unconcerned. “But you’ve got to admit, the last time Merlin had a bad feeling about things we all nearly got blown up. You can’t blame me for checking up on our little weathercock.”

“Merlin gets a bad feeling all the time. He acts strangely all the time. It was just a coincidence that this one time he was right. If Merlin’s not complaining, that’s when I start getting worried.”

“I don’t think that’s —“

“It’s fine, Lance,” said Merlin quickly, flashing a smile. 

Leon watched the two of them exchanging what looked like quite a complex conversation made up of eyebrows and frowns and head shakes. He snorted. This was definitely the disadvantage of being the eldest of the group, all the rest of them seemed like children. 

Merlin and Lance dropped back a little way, talking under their breath, and at one point, Leon turned to see Gwaine had joined them. Merlin and Lancelot looked suspicious at first, which surprised him - Gwaine had always seemed very close to Merlin.

He frowned as the three of them bent their heads in congress. Gwaine then nodded to the others and leaped off his horse. Lancelot reached out for her reins, while Gwaine made his way up the slope, his hand on his sword. 

“Where are you going?” Leon called.

“Thought I saw something, don’t mind me,” he yelled back.

Arthur glanced up. “Ignore him, Leon. We’re not on patrol. If he insists on getting himself gored by a boar that’s his problem.” He raised his voice slightly on the last part, and Leon saw Gwaine grin back at him. 

Arthur turned to Leon, his voice becoming serious. “Sir Gwaine may be impulsive, but I trust him to follow orders when necessary.”

“He should behave and follow orders all the time,” Leon muttered. “He’s a knight of Camelot.”

Arthur laughed. “If we expect him to behave himself, we’ll be sorely disappointed. Allow him a long rein when it matters less, and he’ll feel like he’s won something.”

Leon shrugged and turned back to focus on the path ahead, which was narrowing. Perhaps Arthur was right. Gwaine acted the fool, but he was loyal and brave.

A cry rang out through the forest, and Leon startled, staring up the hill. Arthur called a halt, but not before both Lancelot and Merlin had leaped from their horses and raced up the hill in the direction Gwaine had gone. 

“Merlin!” snapped Arthur. The sound of steel meeting steel echoed through the trees, and Arthur turned to the men. “Bedevere, Elyan, follow the path ahead on foot, stay aware. Percival, Leon, climb the ridge on a path parallel to Gwaine’s and come up on the battle alongside them. I’ll follow those three idiots.”

Leon didn’t like the idea of the king putting himself in the most dangerous position, but while Arthur would take disagreement at nearly any time, the heat of battle was not one of them. He and Percival leaped off their horses, racing up the hill to keep the sounds of a fight on their left. It wasn’t long before the flash of armour and blade appeared through the trees, and he saw Gwaine and Lancelot fighting a group of bandits.

The impulse to dive right in and assist his friends was still almost overwhelming, even after all these years, but he and Percival were well trained. They stayed silent and out of sight until they’d rounded the melee. Arthur’s red cloak fluttered behind a great elm, and Leon caught his eye, nodded.

The three of them dove into battle with a roar. The bandits fought frantically, as fierce as any cornered beast, but the knights of Camelot were trained by the warrior king himself, and, even outnumbered as they were two to one, fought with an elegance and economy of motion that still made Leon’s heart swell with pride and vicious joy. Arthur himself battled three men, and Leon ran his blade through his own opponent, spinning around to cut the tendons behind the knees of another, then leaped towards his king. They turned back to back with a wordless synchronicity borne of a decade and a half of training together. Leon was distantly aware of battle sounds rising from the valley below, and knew Elyan and Bedevere would be doing Camelot proud with the bandits who were fleeing.

Percival was engaged in battle with a bear of a man, who opened up a cut on his bicep as Leon glanced over at him. Percival flinched but ducked under a vicious sweep of the man’s blade and reached under his guard, striking upwards just as Leon dispatched his own opponent. 

He was about to turn to find his next bout when he saw a man creeping up on Percival from up the slope. Percival, who was still tugging his sword free of the last man’s rib cage. “Behind you!” he roared, but he knew in the depths of his soul it was too late, the enemy too close already. Percival’s eyes widened as he turned, as he saw his own death.

With a mighty crack, a branch split from the oak tree behind the man, landing to crush his skull and knock him at Percival’s feet. 

The forest was silent, but for their gulping breaths, sped up by exertion and adrenaline. Percival turned back to Leon, his eyes wide, a man who’d felt the robes of death brush as it passed. For a moment he focused just past Leon, at a point just over his shoulder. Then he blinked and turned to look back at the body at his feet.

Leon quickly glanced over to where Percival had been looking, but there was nothing there but a large boulder. He turned to Arthur, who was already giving his blade its initial clean before sliding Excalibur into his scabbard. “Is everyone all right?” he called, and the men sounded off in turn, as they were trained to. Elyan and Bedevere climbed the ridge, Elyan cradling his ribs. Arthur frowned as he saw him. “Where’s Merlin?”

“Here, sire.” Merlin ran out from behind a boulder and went straight to Elyan’s side, his hands already buried in his satchel and drawing out bandages and herbs.

“I’ll collect firewood,” said Bedevere, and Merlin nodded to him. 

“We’ll go back to that clearing a minute or so back down the track,” Arthur called after Bedevere as he trotted off. “Gwaine,” he said, turning to frown at him. “How did you- what exactly did you see?”

Gwaine glanced over at Merlin, and Leon could swear he saw the boy shake his head slightly. “I thought it was a deer,” Gwaine said. “It was just movement I saw. But there was also a flash of- of blue.” He indicated a body lying a few feet away. “Must’ve caught sight of his weskit there. If I’d known it was a bunch of bandits, I assure you, Princess, I’d have said something.”

Arthur nodded and patted him on the shoulder. “Good catch, Sir Gwaine. If it weren’t for your sharp eyes we’d have been ambushed further down the path.”

“But—“ Gwaine flickered his eyes over to Merlin and trailed off. “Thank you, sire,” he said with a nod and a smile that didn’t seem to reach his eyes. “Should Lancelot and I prepare those rabbits we got earlier?”

Arthur nodded and turned to Merlin, who was inspecting the deep cut along Elyan’s side. “That would be useful, thank you.”

Lancelot patted Merlin’s arm as he passed him. Leon frowned a moment. There was something strange about the young man who exasperated all of them with his nervous grumbling, but then threw himself into battle without armour or weapon.

Then he saw Percival was still standing and staring at the body of the young man who’d nearly been his doom, and he went to lead his friend away.


	3. Percival

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things go right for a bit too long.
> 
> Mentions of hunting in this chapter, nothing too graphic (but then again I once gutted a deer in a suburban Oxfordshire garden and bribed my neighbours with venison to keep them happy, what do I know?!)

“What do you think, Merlin?” Percival asked. Leon turned his head slightly to see the huge man leaning over Merlin as he tightened the girth strap of Arthur’s charger. 

Merlin followed his gaze to the visiting Lord talking to the King, and pursed his lips. “I think I see another week of Arthur getting his arse kissed.”

Gwaine laughed loudly, and both Arthur and Leon frowned at him. He coughed into his fist and inclined his head in apology.

“You don’t think he’s trouble?”

“No?” said Merlin, looking at him in alarm. “Why, have you heard something?”

Percival shook his head. “No, nothing like that.”

“Why on earth would Merlin know?” Leon hissed. “Now will you lot shut up?”

“Come on, Sir Leon,” said Percival. “You must have noticed by now that Merlin just… seems to know stuff.”

“It’s true,” said Gwaine. “He’s just a sensitive soul, he picks up on these things.”

“You know, I think you’re right,” said Leon with false cheer. Merlin’s head snapped up, eyes wide. “Because at least Merlin has picked up on the fact that you need to be _quiet_ before Lord Bronwen takes offence.”

Percival and Gwaine mumbled apologies of varying sincerity and faced forwards as Lord Bronwen mounted his own horse with his entourage ready to set out on the hunt. Leon noticed both Merlin and Lancelot exchange relieved glances, and frowned. He’d noticed the changes in the month or so since the ambush, more and more of the knights were treating Merlin like some sort of lucky charm or oracle. If they weren’t careful someone was going to accuse the boy of sorcery and that would do him immeasurable harm. With one last glare at Gwaine, who was fidgeting again, they followed Arthur and Lord Bronwen out of the citadel in search of a stag.

It was a perfect day for a hunt. The air was cool and still, but the cold snap of the last few days had lifted, and the sun filtered through the fine spring leaves casting warm patches on their skin. The king and the lord led the way, the horse’s hooves soft on the leaf litter, conversation a muted murmur throughout the entourage. A veil of peace lay over the whole day, and even the sudden adrenaline when the first hart was sighted seemed to pass quickly once the creatures had been gutted. Lord Bronwen, in his good cheer, suggested they stop for a late lunch, and offered some of his own kill to be cooked.

Leon found himself in amongst his knights discussing training techniques with their counterparts in Lord Bronwen’s court, bantering good naturedly with the men. The two groups seemed to have blended well. Gwaine in particular seemed to have formed himself a small entourage of younger squires who were intent on stealing strips of venison as Merlin cooked it. Leon snorted and shook his head as Merlin slapped Gwaine’s hand and arse several times, nearly knocking over the bowl of dripping he’d collected.

Almost as the words ‘today is a good day’ drifted through his mind, he knew something had to go wrong. For a moment he tried to argue with himself that he was just paranoid. The men were always telling him he needed to lighten up, he should really just enjoy the camaraderie and spring sunlight and the smell of roasting meat. But then Merlin stood up.

He looked over towards the mountains. There was nothing he could possibly have seen there, but even from across the clearing Leon could see the frown line between his eyebrows. Percival saw it as well, and his hand went to his sword. “What is it, Merlin?” he asked softly.

Merlin shook his head and ran over to Arthur, still talking seriously to Lord Bronwen. “Sire, I think--”

“Merlin, please,” frowned Arthur. “Whatever it is can wait.”

“No, but I’m pretty sure--”

Arthur glared at him. “I apologise for my servant, Lord Bronwen. I did think he’d got over his mental deficiencies.”

“Sire,” snapped Merlin. “Something is coming.”

Arthur snorted. “Merlin, you’ll forgive me if I don’t believe you. I was able to sneak up on you yesterday wearing full armour and dragging a sack of damaged shields behind me.”

“But that’s _different_ , Arthur, this--”

“Sire! Wyverns!” cried Lancelot, and the clearing erupted as three lizard-like creatures approached over the lake, shrieking and flapping their great leathery wings. Leon had his sword out in an instant, shoving his new friends towards their lord and shouting instructions to the Camelot knights to take position. Elyan snatched up a crossbow and fired a bolt straight into the shoulder joint of one of the creatures, while Bedevere guided the visiting knights back into the shelter of the forest. A pair of quick-thinking men set to loading and re-loading three crossbows beside Elyan so he was never without ammunition, and it wasn’t long before the first wyvern fell.

The other two circled, ducking out of range behind the tree line before swooping down, scoring a bloody scratch along Percival’s bicep, and knocking one of the visiting knights to the ground. Arthur leaped forwards as it tried to snatch up the fallen man, Excalibur whipping out and slashing into its throat. Gwaine had to run forwards to drag Percival out of the way as the beast thrashed in its death throes, churning up the soil. 

The third wyvern had also landed, thanks to one of Elyan’s bolts tearing into its wing joint. The men regrouped and approached it as it snarled and whipped its claws out at them. They had it cornered against the lake, unable to fly and escape, and Leon redoubled his focus, remembering the damage he’d seen caused by bears, when hunters had believed them trapped. Slowly they approached, all attention latched onto the snapping jaws, the lashing tail and claws.

So it took a while for the sound of battle behind them to sink in. Leon’s heart dropped as he heard roars and the clash of sword on shield. But this was no time to be distracted. Arthur called their focus back and slowly, achingly slowly, they advanced on the cornered beast.

At last it lunged, straight for Arthur. Leon and Percival leaped at the same time, plunging their swords deep in its ribs, muscles tensed tight against the lashing of the wings and the tail. Leon winced as a claw tore the skin on his hip, but held tight, driving the blade deep into its lungs as Arthur hacked at its neck.

When it fell there was no time for victory. They turned as one and raced into the woods, engaging the bandits that fought the visiting knights, driving them back.

And then there was a horribly familiar green blast, and Leon curled up as the shockwave knocked him off his feet. Debris fell around him again, and his heart thundered in panic. Not again, not the silence. He needed to be aware, needed to protect his king, this could not happen again. But either it had been weaker than the first, or further away, but when he sat up, he could hear voices in the distance, shouts, and groans for help. 

“Are you OK?” Arthur yelled, reaching down a hand drenched in wyvern blood to help him to his feet.

Leon nodded. “The others?”

“They have taken him,” cried a young man, and Arthur and Leon turned, swords at the ready immediately. 

“Who?” Arthur demanded. “Who’s been taken?”

“Lord Bronwen,” he said, eyes wide in terror.

“Sire,” called Lancelot. “They have Bedevere too. And… and Merlin.”


	4. Elyan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I promise... it gets better...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone's interested in Welsh language stuff, the dd phoneme is pronounced A BIT like a soft th sound, but to my ear it's sort of shortened with the tip of your tongue? I'm not Welsh, I just knew a guy called Dafydd in uni lol

“He’ll be fine, sire. Merlin always is,” said Elyan, riding at Arthur’s side. But he looked as worried as the rest of them.

“It’s not Merlin I’m worried about, Elyan,” Arthur snapped. Gwaine, on his other side, just raised his eyebrows. “OK,” said Arthur. “Of course I’m worried about him. But he’s not the one who’ll start a war over our northern territories if we don’t get him back.”

They rode forwards in silence, following Lancelot and Dafydd, the best trackers from both groups. Even Gwaine seemed completely focused on the path ahead, and when Lancelot dismounted, Gwaine was the first forward. “What’s up?”

“We’ve found evidence of someone trying to hide the tracks.”

“So?”

“We haven’t seen it at all until now, Dafydd reckons it means we’re getting close, but it’s all very clumsily done.”

“Just what I like to hear, our enemies are idiots.”

Arthur shook his head. “No, Gwaine. Remember the trap we stumbled into back at the Dinadan’s barn. We have to assume we’re walking into another ambush.”

“Oh good,” he said with a flat grin. “Wouldn’t want it to be too easy, would we?”

Arthur gathered the men and assigned jobs. A group of the youngest knights from Sir Bronwen’s party were left behind with the horses, and the rest of them followed the trackers on foot. Arthur took Percival and Bronwen’s chief knight Andret to lead, while Leon, Elyan and Gwaine spread out along the rear, eyes sharp for anything out of the ordinary.

At last, after a tense half hour of creeping forwards, the signal came to crouch low and tighten up near the front. Leon raised his eyebrows to Arthur. “Do you see that?” the king whispered, pointing to the clearing ahead.

Leon frowned at the empty space. He was about to shake his head, when there was a flicker. Leon’s eyes widened. “Ah.”

“That’s what I said,” Arthur nodded grimly. “Either the sorcerer hiding them has taken damage or the spell masking that fort is taking a lot of energy.”

Gwaine shook his head. “I’m not surprised. That thing’s huge.” Then he shrugged cheerfully. “Or it’s all a trap.”

The air in the clearing shimmered again, and for an instant Leon glimpsed the same stone building he’d seen before. It wasn’t actually very large, perhaps no taller than Camelot’s grand gatehouse, but it didn’t have to be - if they hadn’t had Lancelot and Dafydd tracking for them they would never have glanced in this direction. They would have walked right past where their friends were being held.

“What’s the plan, Princess?” asked Gwaine. Arthur didn’t even respond to the nickname, his mind already on the strategy.

***

Through intermittent glimpses of the circular fort, Leon and Elyan crept around the clearing, followed by knights who spread themselves equally around the building. They touched the ground with their toes before leaning all their weight forwards, a sliding, smooth gait that left twigs uncracked and silent. At last, facing the shadow of the fort, they paused and Leon waited, eyes searching for everything he could see any time the fort became visible. 

“There,” whispered Elyan, a breath at his left shoulder. He followed his pointing finger and narrowed his eyes at the slightest green glow around the seam of some of the stones.

“Looks an awful lot like that sorcerer’s magic to me,” he whispered back.

Elyan nodded. “Yeah. Like a light in a room showing up the doorway. If we take out that sorcerer the rest will fall quickly.”

Leon nodded once, sharply, and adjusted his grip on his sword, waiting.

“OI!” he heard, and grinned.

“It’s starting,” Elyan whispered.

“You wankers, lemme in!” Gwaine’s voice echoed around the clearing, slurring and overloud. He was exactly on the other side of the fort from Leon, but he could imagine him, muddied up and stumbling, possibly even waving around some sort of vessel. “Can’t believe you left me out here. Could’ve been got by Camelot’s finest, couldn’t I?”

“Who the hell are you?” a voice hissed from the embrasure.

“Oh, that’s very nice,” Gwaine slurred. “Who’m I, he asks! Well, I like that. Not like I didn’t take an arrow for Stinky down in the kitchens last year, oh no. Ask old feller-me-lad who I am, he’ll tell you!”

The voice sounded heartily sick of Gwaine already. “Just tell me who you are, you idiot, before you bring Camelot down on our heads!”

“Shan’t,” said Gwaine, and Elyan gave a muffled snort behind Leon’s shoulder. “You didn’t ask nicely. Why should I even tell you what I learned at the tavern? There I was, doing you lot a favour, integorrogating all those lads and ladies, and this is the thanks I get? Who am I, hones’ly. I’m sick of it, that’s who I am. No reco- regoc- no respec’ that’s what this is.”

“Why should anyone respect an old soak like you?” the voice asked, a tone or two higher in its indignation, and just then the fort swam into view again. Leon and Elyan rushed to the source of the glow and before it could disappear, Leon slipped his knife in the crack between the stones. 

“Did you get it?” whispered Elyan as the fort disappeared. 

He nodded. It was surreal, listening to Gwaine and the voice on the invisible fort get more and more heated, and yet he couldn’t see him. Invisible or not, the building wasn’t see-through. And he could still feel it. Together he and Elyan worked at the knife, levering the gap open, tracing it around until they felt the hidden entrance give slightly. Elyan let out a little ‘ha’ sound as the invisible stone swung towards them with a grating sound, and Leon paused to gesture to the other knights before slipping into the room.

The fort was clearly visible from the inside. There was no sorcerer in that first room, but the green glow suffused all the interior stones with an irregular pulse. The knights trickled in through the door as quietly as possible, spreading out through the corridors, alert for any sound of habitation. A group of Bronwen’s knights came upon two guards and dispatched them with admirable skill. 

Then a shout and a thunder of footsteps above roared through the fort, and Elyan looked at Leon with raised eyebrows. “Sounds like they got fed up of Gwaine.”

Leon nodded and reminded himself that Gwaine was the luckiest bastard he’d ever met, and Dafydd was almost as good a bowman as Elyan. They abandoned any attempt at silence and raced through the stone hallways, engaging bandits at every turn. They split at the stairs, most of Bronwen’s men heading up, while Elyan and Leon raced down into the basements. 

“Merlin!” Elyan shouted, and ran forwards.

“Elyan, no!” Leon cried. For there in front of Merlin was a girl with glowing green hands.

“It’s OK,” Merlin said. “She’s OK, I promise, please don’t hurt her?”

“Merlin,” Leon sighed, exasperated. He really had to stop being so damn trusting all the time. “She’s the sorcerer. And you’re hurt.”

“I’m fine,” he said, struggling to his feet and pushing the red-haired girl behind him. “I’m OK, but this is Cundrie. She’s… she’s been coerced, she didn’t want to hurt anyone. Did you?”

The girl shook her head, dirty red hair flying across her face. “I just want to go back to my family, please, sir?”

Arthur raced in behind them, blood smeared across his face. “Merlin!”

“Arthur… Arthur please believe me, she’s harmless!”

Arthur looked like tearing his eyes away from the cuts and burns that covered Merlin’s body was a personal insult, and glared at the girl. “She’s the sorceress?”

“She’s just a child,” Merlin begged. “Please, sire, please don’t… don’t…”

“Merlin…”

“Sire, I think she was deliberately making the fort visible so we could find them,” said Elyan, lowering his sword. 

Cundrie nodded vigorously. “And I was supposed to cover our tracks - I didn’t, on purpose. I’m usually the best but Merlin said you’d help me if I helped him and the other prisoners. I’m sorry for before. I just… I want my mum.”

“You can’t trust a sorcerer, Merlin,” said Arthur firmly.

“But we can trust Merlin,” said Elyan. 

Arthur glared at him. “Yes, but Merlin’s a gullible idiot, he thinks everyone’s lovely.”

“Please sire,” begged Merlin, and Leon’s heart broke as tears spilled from his eyes, tracking down his swollen cheeks. “Please don’t make me a liar.”

Gwaine rushed into the room, followed by Sir Andret. “We’ve got the others - Merlin!” Gwaine ran forwards, catching Merlin as he staggered. “Why are we standing around, look at him, he’s hurt!”

Arthur’s face was blank and his jaw clenched. “We’ll take the sorceress back to the citadel. To the dungeons.”

“No, Arthur, please,” Merlin howled, sagging into Gwaine’s arms as Leon approached the hyperventilating girl. “Please, Leon, no, don’t hurt her, please, I beg you.”

“Shh,” said Leon softly under his breath. “I’m sorry, Cundrie. It’s OK.”

“It’s not though. Is it sir?” She blinked up at him, and he could feel her entire body trembling under his hands as he clasped her wrists together in the shackles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *ducks* sorry...?


	5. Leon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The tide is turning...

Leon pinched his lower lip between his finger and thumb and rolled it back and forth. Gwaine was by Merlin’s bed, smoothing the burn salve across his back, keeping up a constant stream of chatter that Leon had stopped listening to about an hour ago. He was pretty sure Gwaine was listing everything he wanted to do to the men who’d pressed the red hot poker to Merlin’s skin time and time again, raising infected blisters across both his back and chest so nearly every way Merlin lay would have to have been excruciatingly painful.

Not that it mattered right now, because Merlin hadn’t woken up after he collapsed in the fort. Leon’s frown deepened as he thought of the girl in the dungeons, awaiting her sentence. And everyone in Camelot knew there was only on sentence for sorcery. Oh, sure, it hadn’t been passed since Arthur took the throne, but the laws remained the same as they had during Uther’s time. He’d never seen any reason to consider the alternatives.

Maybe he’d never been so close to a sorcerer who wasn’t actively trying to kill him. The thought of the teenage girl, trembling in terror, bone white under the mud and freckles smudged over her nose, made something deep and uncomfortable squirm in the very foundation of his beliefs. He had always seen it as something black and white. The sky was blue. The night was dark. Sorcery was evil.

Unwillingly, his mind started presenting him with memories. The people he’d seen beheaded or burned. So many of them, particularly in the last decade or two, had been vicious, snarling things who tried to kill his king, and fought to the death. Leon had never lost any sleep over those, and never would. But there had been others. And maybe… maybe Leon had found his head turning from the sight of the midwife who’d cast spells to ease women’s pain, the baker who’d spoken incantations over his flour to stave off ergot.

The children who’d been killed in the purge. 

Arthur walked in, and Leon leaped to his feet. Gwaine didn’t even look up from his task. “How is he?” Arthur asked. His voice was steady and he barely glanced at Merlin, but it was obvious to Leon that he was terrified for his friend.

“No change, sire,” he said. Arthur seemed to slump slightly, shrink before he visibly steeled himself and straightened his spine.

“I need a word, Sir Leon, if you would.”

Leon nodded and followed the king out of Gaius’ chambers and down to the courtyard. “I need you to organise the pyre for the sorceress.”

Leon stopped in the middle of the walkway. “Sire, you…” He took a deep breath as Arthur turned, eyebrows raised. “So soon.”

The king’s eyes skittered away. “I thought it would be best to get it over with before Merlin wakes.”

Leon closed his eyes for a fraction of a second and allowed his heart to scream in the dark. “Sire… do you not think we should hear Merlin’s testimony?”

Arthur rolled his eyes and walked on, leading them to the training grounds. “I already know what Merlin’s going to say. He’s too soft, Leon, you know what he’s like. He thinks the best of everyone.”

Leon kept his eyes fixed on his Lord’s heels as they walked. His heart was thundering in his chest and his mind raced as the ground beneath his feet tilted for the second time that day. He had never considered arguing with his king’s judgement on something so fundamental as this - raised as a noble and a knight under Uther’s regime, such behaviour would have been a death sentence. But Arthur had always been different. Leon had argued over strategy, battle, siege. But this… “Sire, I don’t think…”

“What?” Arthur turned, head tilted. “What is it, Leon?”

Leon looked up, his blood rushing in his ears like this was battle. But Arthur looked concerned. Like it mattered to him what Leon thought. Like he’d listen even to this.

“I think you’re wrong.”

Arthur just raised both eyebrows and Leon’s panic rose. “I mean… Sire… I think- about Merlin, I mean, I don’t—“

“Leon, calm down,” he said sharply, and Leon took a deep breath and bit his lip. “Good. Now, tell me in actual sentences, what the problem is.”

Leon blinked multiple times and tried to capture the fragments of the point he was trying to make, scattered to the rushing wind inside him. Arthur’s face softened and he put his hand on Leon’s shoulder. “Am I the kind of king who feels so little faith in himself that I would punish a trusted advisor for speaking his mind?” He chuckled. “Hasn’t Merlin taught you anything?”

Leon smiled and looked down, shaking his head. He took a deep breath. “Sire,” he said. “I just think you might be wrong. About Merlin. He doesn’t trust easily at all, really. Remember how he spoke out against Agravaine, and Cedric, and he was right? None of us believed him, but he was proven right in the end.”

Arthur sighed. “I know this is difficult, Leon, and distasteful. But we can’t allow sorcery to go unpunished. This girl sought it out, she can’t be allowed to grow in power and possibly join Morgana. My father fought the evils of sorcery his entire life, we can’t lose momentum now.”

“I still think you should hear from Merlin, sire. There may be more to it than the obvious.”

Arthur turned and continued to the training ground in silence. Leon followed, his head down. He had said his piece, and Arthur had heard him. That was all he could do.

“I don’t want to upset him,” he said after a moment. He hefted a shield, starting his drills. He didn’t look at Leon. “I hoped to save him the pain of it.”

“I think he would feel it anyway, sire.”

Arthur laughed. “Merlin? No. He’s a simple soul, Leon. Kind and loyal, but simple. He’d be back on his feet and smiling in no time. Out of sight, out of mind.”

***

Merlin’s eyes were sunken and hooded. He looked like he’d aged several decades and not slept for half of those. Leon watched Arthur hide his concern under a bland face and stern tone. “Merlin, you’re up at last. How are you feeling?”

Merlin’s face broke into a sunshine smile as he looked up at Arthur. “Much better, sire. Thanks.”

“Good,” he said, lifting his chin. “Now, I know you’ve had a difficult time, but I need to ask for your account of your capture, particularly in relation to the sorceress.”

Merlin’s eyebrows shot up. “Did Bedevere not tell you?”

“He did. As did Lord Bronwen, who was thankfully more grateful for the rescue than blaming us for the capture.” Arthur’s face softened. “Both of them said you were incredibly brave, Merlin. That you called attention to yourself and took most of the punishment.”

Merlin blushed and smiled down at his hands, bandaged in his lap.

“But they also said they had very little contact with the sorceress. That she, for some reason, latched onto you?”

His head snapped up. “She was a captive too. She’d been taken from her home in Caerleon when she was a little girl, and she’s… it’s been horrible for her, sire. She never wanted to hurt anyone. Please don’t… please…”

Merlin trailed off and Arthur took a deep breath, scrunching his face up. “Merlin, you know the penalty for sorcery in Camelot. Added to that, she brought harm to our people, nearly killed Leon here. And all because she desired power and turned to sorcery.”

Merlin was shaking his head and leaning forward, almost toppling off the side of his bed in an effort to get closer and convince Arthur. “But she didn’t, Arthur. She was born with magic, she never chose it.”

Arthur snorted. “Magic is learned, you aren’t born with it.”

“Not all the time, sire.” His voice sounded deep with pain and Leon wondered if Merlin was really the simple, cheerful boy they all believed he was. “It’s not that simple.”

He rolled his eyes. “What do you know of sorcery, Merlin?”

He bit his lip. “I’ve learned a lot.”

“Sire,” said Gwaine. “Sorcery isn’t illegal in Caerleon. Whether she was born with magic or chose it, it would have been acceptable there.”

“Please, sire,” Merlin said softly, looking up at Arthur with fading hope. “She isn’t evil. Please… trust me?”

Arthur sighed, and looked over at Leon. “I do trust you, Merlin,” he said. “Very well. Gwaine, you and Elyan can take the child - in shackles, mind you, I don’t intend to be taken for a fool - to Caerleon. If she knows where to find her village, return her there. If not, take her to Queen Annis. I will furnish you with a missive for her.” He looked at Merlin. “Happy now?”

Merlin stared at Arthur, mouth open. He nodded wordlessly, the soft blanket over his shoulders slipping from slack fingers. Something was burning in the blue of his eyes, and the intensity of it almost hurt to look at. Leon turned back to Arthur instead and smiled.


	6. Merlin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Merlin puts some more trust in Arthur...

“Are you sure you want to do this, Merlin?”

“I have to.” Merlin’s voice was very clearly shaking and Leon frowned as he rounded the corner. He’d never heard him sound so terrified. “He said he trusted me, Lance. I can’t… I can’t do this to him any more.”

“Merlin?” Leon called as they came into view outside Arthur’s chambers. “Is everything all right?”

Merlin jumped visibly, his entire body going rigid. When he turned to Leon his eyes were wide, one step away from panic. 

“What on earth’s the matter?”

“I… I…”

“It’s OK, Sir Leon,” said Lancelot, putting one hand on Merlin’s shoulder. 

“I just… there’s something I need to tell Arthur.”

“Looks serious,” said Leon.

Merlin nodded. To Leon’s horror a tear started running down Merlin’s cheek. He took hold of his arms and gave him a gentle shake. “Merlin, what is it?”

“I have to tell him,” he whispered.

“Whatever you’ve done, you have to know that Arthur will forgive you. He thinks the world of you, you must know that, surely?”

Merlin shrugged. “I don’t think he can forgive this,” he whispered.

Leon pulled him tight and hugged him. There was something terribly wrong about Merlin being sad, and more than anything Leon wanted to take Merlin away and wrap him in warm cloaks and feed him broth until he felt better. A quick glance at Lancelot made him think he would do the same.

“That settles it,” said Lancelot. “I’m coming with you.”

“Me too,” said Leon firmly. 

Merlin looked up at him in horror. “No! You don’t—“

“I can’t let you go in there like this,” he said. “It’s obvious you need some moral support until you’ve seen that whatever it is, Arthur couldn’t possibly be that angry with you. Not with _you_ , Merlin.”

Merlin bit his lip, but it still trembled, and his eyes still filled with tears again. “OK,” he said at last. He turned to Lance. “It’ll be public knowledge soon enough.”

He nodded to himself. Lancelot squeezed his hand and knocked on the door. “Come!” called Arthur.

Merlin took a deep breath and pushed the door open. Lancelot and Leon followed and stood a step behind him as he faced the king, his fists clenching and unclenching.

“Merlin,” laughed Arthur. “You finally learned to knock.” He nodded at Lance and Leon. “Gentlemen. How can I help you?”

“We’re here for Merlin,” said Lancelot, when Merlin didn’t answer. “For moral support.”

“He has something to tell you, sire,” said Leon, putting a reassuring hand on Merlin’s shoulder. “He’s worried about it, for some reason.”

Merlin glanced up at Leon, then back at the floor in front of Arthur’s feet. Arthur smiled. “Merlin, if this is about the hole you burned in my favourite shirt, I already know, and—“

“No, sire,” he said, and Arthur looked at him in surprise, because his voice was thick with tears. “No, it’s not that.”

“What? Merlin, you know you can tell me anything.”

He nodded, but shrank even further into himself. Arthur’s forehead crinkled up with concern. Lancelot rubbed the back of Merlin’s neck and nodded at him, looking serious and sad.

“I… I have magic, sire,” he whispered.

Leon froze, his hand still on Merlin’s shoulder. The silence spread out into infinity and his thoughts seemed to have stuttered into nothing.

Arthur cleared his throat. “What?” His voice was creaking, weak and lost.

Merlin held out his shaking hands and whispered into them. Leon startled back as his eyes glowed gold and a bright blue butterfly drifted out of nowhere and flew before them. For a moment Merlin looked free. 

Then he looked back at Arthur, and dropped to his knees on the floor. “I was born with it,” he said, looking up at the king. “It’s yours, as am I. I use it only for you.”

“Get out,” Arthur croaked. Then roared. “Get out!”

Merlin sobbed, sharp and broken. His shoulders curled inwards, his hands covering his face as he cried. Leon felt the air move beside him as Lancelot pulled Merlin to his feet with soft words, and guided him out.

Arthur turned to stare into the fire. “Did you know?” He sounded like he was being strangled. Like Leon felt.

“No, sire.” He could barely raise his voice over a whisper.

Arthur was still for an instant. Then, with a wordless roar, he hurled the table over, smashing it against the wall, food and scrolls scattering across the room. Leon didn’t even flinch.

“Why?” he asked. “Why does it all end in betrayal?”


	7. Arthur

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AT LAST!

Leon felt as if ages could have come and gone in the time he was grappling with his spinning thoughts. He fought to bring them under control, and looked up at the king, standing with his head bowed, grief weighing his shoulders down. “Sire,” he said, but didn’t know how to continue.

“I thought he was my friend, Leon.” He shook his head and laughed, cold and hurt. “I should have known, a king has no friends.”

Leon set his jaw. “Of course he was your friend, sire. Merlin worships you, that’s clear for us all to see.”

“Does he?” he snapped. “He spent seven years playing the fool for me, getting close-- What was his plan, Leon? Who was he working for?”

“My Lord, you cannot possibly think-- he has been closer to you than anyone else for years! If he had any plans on your life do you not think he would have enacted them by now?”

“I don’t know what to think!” He glared at Leon, breathing hard, one hand tearing at his hair. “All I know is that he lied to me, and he never bothered to tell me this fundamental thing about himself until after he had manipulated me to free that sorceress.”

“Sire,” snapped Leon, shocking himself. “Think, please. Merlin was unconscious for most of the time the sorceress was in the dungeons, you could say I manipulated you much more than he.”

“Why are you on his side?” 

Leon looked at him sadly, and remembered the young prince he had trained, his teenage heartbreaks and childish feuds. Arthur was so much more than he had been, he was a king, he was Leon’s sworn lord, and he would have followed him to the end of the earth, but he was also young, and hurt. “I will never be on anyone’s side but your own, sire. I pledged my loyalty to your family before I reached my own manhood, and I am proud to be your knight. But…” he frowned and thought his words through carefully. “But there is a chance that Merlin’s side is still your side, and as long as that chance exists, I would see it through. For your own sake, my Lord, please, I hope you will see it too.”

Arthur was quiet for a long time, looking down at the scattered items he had thrown across the room. At last he nodded. “Come, then. Let’s hear what he has to say.”

Leon followed Arthur down the wide stone staircases to the physician’s quarters. As they neared the door, it was flung open, and Leon saw Gwaine’s back disappearing down the stairs to the courtyard. Arthur took a breath as if he wanted to shout after him, but shook his head and turned instead to Gaius’ door.

“Merlin, please, I beg you. Listen to Gwaine. You must leave Camelot now!”

Arthur paused, his hand on the door handle, and Leon saw the shock freeze his expression.

“I’m not going anywhere, Gaius,” said Merlin, his voice thick with tears, and small.

“You know what the penalty for sorcery is in Camelot, please.” Gaius’ voice was almost a wail. “Do not make me watch you burn. You know you… you are like a son to me, I can’t…”

“I can’t, Gaius,” said Merlin. “I’m sorry, but… I can’t leave him. I said I’d be happy to be his servant until the day I die and I stand by that. I can’t…” He sniffed, and Leon heard the movement of fabric. “It means nothing if Arthur hates me, anyway.”

Arthur closed his eyes for a moment, then pushed the door open. Lancelot had his arm around Merlin, whose shoulders were shaking with silent sobs. Gaius was slumped against his work table. All three of them stood as Arthur walked in, and Gaius, his eyes wide in terror, stood in front of Merlin. “Sire…”

“Stand aside, Gaius,” said Arthur.

“Gaius, stop,” Merlin cried, pulling him to one side, actually scuffling with the old man.

With a clattering sound, Gwaine leaped into the room, followed by Elyan and Percival. “Back off, Princess,” Gwaine snarled, and to Leon’s horror he saw him reach for his sword.

Arthur’s jaw tensed and relaxed, his face stoic. “Is this what you all think of me? Is this the trust you have for your king?”

“It’s not that we don’t trust you,” said Gwaine, moving sideways to stand in front of Gaius. Leon thought hysterically that this was getting a bit ridiculous, that they were going to end up with a veritable queue of people between Arthur and Merlin. “It’s more the fact that you don’t trust Merlin, isn’t it?”

Arthur frowned. “I’ve always trusted Merlin,” he said, indignation almost engulfing his grief. He looked around at his men, but Elyan and Percival avoided his eyes. “I have!”

“With all due respect, sire, you kind of don’t,” said Elyan, his face twisted with his awkward words.

Arthur looked insulted for a moment, then bit his lip and looked up at Merlin, who was now trying to disarm Gwaine. “I do trust him,” he said softly, and Merlin released Gwaine’s sword arm and looked up at the king with his sad eyes flickering with hope. “I may not trust him to know what he’s doing in battle - and magic doesn’t change that,” he said, raising his eyebrows and pointing at him. “But I trust him to be a good man. And… I guess… I suppose magic doesn’t change that, either.”

Merlin’s face crumpled and he buried it in his hands, shaking with sobs once more. Arthur laughed, low and fond, and stepped forward to pull Merlin close, patting him between the shoulder blades. Merlin immediately tangled his fingers in Arthur’s shirt and wept into the junction of his king’s shoulder and neck.

“I thought you’d hate me,” Merlin whispered. “I couldn’t bear it if you…”

“I could never hate you, Merlin,” murmured Arthur, voice low and fond. He smiled, Leon could just see his cheek lift from where he stood, and hear it in his voice. “It would be like hating a kitten.”

“Shut up, Clotpole,” he snuffled, thumping Arthur.

“A tiny, helpless little kitten. Ow!”

“A magical kitten sorcerer,” snorted Gwaine.

Arthur held Merlin back by the shoulders and looked at him sternly. “I want to know everything,” he said.

Merlin paled and hung his head, but he nodded, wiping the tears off. Leon felt the world settle into its rightful place again, and turned to the knights. “Come on, men, I’m leading drills today.”

Gwaine moaned. “Oh, but story time was just beginning.”

Leon rolled his eyes and grabbed him by the scruff of his neck, shoving him out after Percival and Elyan. Lancelot caught Merlin’s eye and gave him a nod and a smile, following behind. 

Leon let him pass them and slowed Gwaine down, pulling him around. “You drew your sword on the king,” he said, his voice flat.

Gwaine cocked his head to one side. “Aye, and I’d do it again if I feared for Merlin’s life.”

“You swore your allegiance to Arthur.”

Gwaine huffed and looked away. “Arthur’s a good man. The best king, the best nobleman there’s ever been, I’d wager.” He shook his head and looked back at Leon. “But I’m not.”

“Gwaine—“

“No, I’m not. Not like you and the others. I’m twisty.” He shrugged. “I like it that way. All this absolute loyalty, following someone to the ends of the earth - I’d do that for Arthur, sure. But only if I agreed with him. I’d do it for you too, if I thought you were in the right. And Elyan, and Perce. But, Leon, I _know_ Merlin’s right. In his soul. Arthur’s a good man, but… Merlin’s something different.” He shrugged again. “Guess we all know that for sure now. But my point is, the only person I could swear allegiance to and follow blindly is that skinny little bastard in there. But I can’t. So I follow his master.”

Leon was quiet for a moment, marvelling at the ferocity in Gwaine’s eyes. “Why?” He said at last.

Gwaine laughed and flicked back his hair and the depth disappeared. He was the silly, flirtatious drunkard again. “Dunno, mate. That’s just how it is.” He slapped Leon on the back and walked out of the castle. Leon followed, shaking his head.


	8. Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur knows Merlin has magic, but so far all he's seen has been domestic stuff like lighting fires and helping with the chores. Now he gets to see what Merlin can really do...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you SO MUCH for all your support with this story, all your comments and loveliness - the Merlin fandom is amazing ;_; This chapter's a day early because I'm away tomorrow, but I'm so relieved I uploaded in stages because I literally JUST came up with the last section to this on Thursday lol! Thank you PT for bidding on me and the awesome prompt - I hope you liked it! 
> 
> Errr, warning for creepy dog creatures... with added body horror...

“For a sorcerer - oh, I'm sorry, 'warlock',” said Arthur, looking down at a mud-soaked Merlin, “you really are the clumsiest oaf. In fact, you’re ridiculously clumsy for the average person, so I really don’t know how you’d function without magic.”

Merlin glared at him and wiped a glob of mud and leaf litter off his cheek. “I was startled.”

“By a pheasant.”

“They’re very… startling birds.”

Arthur looked at him, both eyebrows raised.

“Oh, shut up.”

Lancelot hopped off his mount and offered a hand, hauling Merlin to his feet. “Are you hurt?”

Merlin chucked and shook his head. “No worse than when his royal arse throws a goblet at my head.” But Leon noticed he winced when he took a step. 

Arthur had obviously spotted it too, because he called a halt. “We’ll set up camp here. Merlin, get us a fire going, will you?”

He groaned. “Arthur, the wood’s all wet, it’ll take hours.”

“Are you a warlock or not?” He snorted. “We’re far enough away from the citadel, just use your magic.”

Merlin looked up at him and smiled at Arthur’s back, and Leon had to turn away. Devotion like that was something precious, and private.

“Just wait until the new laws go through,” Arthur called back as he stripped the saddle off his horse. “You’ll be in great demand all over the castle for your fire lighting prowess. Not so sure about the butterflies. The gardeners might appreciate them.”

Merlin snorted and lost the worshipful gaze. Leon smothered a smile as he watched him stomp over to gather some damp wood and light it with a whispered spell. 

Elyan crouched down to watch his eyes flash golden and Merlin glanced up shyly. “Sorry,” said Elyan. “It’s just, I’ve never seen sorcery up close.”

“How do you do it?” asked Percy, sitting beside Elyan. “How does it feel?”

“I don’t know, really,” he said, glancing at Arthur as if he was searching for permission. “Like… fizzing under my skin. Bubbles. And then when it comes out, when I actually _do_ the magic, it’s like… my skin doesn’t just end there, you know? It sort of… becomes part of the air. Part of the world.”

“So… you feel like you’re being peeled?” Gwaine said, dropping himself down and nudging Merlin so he fell over.

Leon laughed and shook his head. He turned back to his horse, checking a knee that had recently recovered from lameness, and glanced up at Lancelot. “You knew before, didn’t you?”

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I did. Merlin helped me defeat the gryphon with magic, I couldn’t have done it alone. He tried to convince me it wasn’t him, but…” he shrugged. “That’s actually why I left, the first time. I didn’t want to lie to Arthur, but I didn’t want to put pressure on Merlin to tell him either. They didn’t know each other that well yet. And of course, Uther was still king.”

Leon nodded and glanced over to where Arthur had joined in the fireside banter. “Why now? Why didn’t he tell him before?”

Lancelot smiled. “Because Arthur said he trusted him.”

“He’s always trusted Merlin to a certain extent. Like he said, he’s always trusted him to be a good man, and loyal.”

“But he’s never said as much, has he?” asked Lancelot with a sad smile.

***

The enclave was exactly where Cundrie had described, an encampment hidden in the depths of the forest. Arthur led them in silence up to the very doors of the buildings, but it was deserted. Swords at the ready, they searched every hut, every logpile. “Nothing,” called Leon, still keeping his voice low.

“They must have found the fort,” said Percival, lowering his weapon.

As he spoke, there was a whistle and a juddering thud as an arrow embedded itself into Bedevere’s shield. “Ambush!” cried Arthur, and as one they turned with shields up to face outwards to their foe. “Get to the trees!”

The moment they shifted towards the tree line, another three arrows flew, piercing the dirt at their feet and forcing them backwards. A shout went up, wild whooping and laughter. They turned to the source of the arrows, and another volley appeared from the opposite direction. “We’re surrounded,” Gwaine said.

“Yes, thank you, Gwaine, very helpful. Merlin, what the hell are you doing, you idiot? Get behind me, you don’t have a shield!”

But Merlin’s eyes were wide and glinting. “Do you trust me, sire?”

Arthur glanced at him. “To keep yourself safe? Not really.”

“I promise… sire, please. I can help.”

Arthur gritted his teeth and moved his shield as another arrow embedded itself in the wood. Another voice from the trees jeered and taunted him, and Leon flinched as a splinter flew out of his own shield, cutting him across the temple. “Fine,” said Arthur softly. “I trust you.”

Merlin’s smile was sweet and fierce, and he dropped to his knees immediately with no thought to the constantly shifting feet and weapons above him. He murmured words in a different language and pressed his fingers into the soil. Leon stole a glance out of the corner of his eye to see his eyes glow golden, not simply a flash like the simple spells he’d done the previous evening, but an ember fed with air, kindling into a flame. 

The ground beneath their feet grumbled, and something in the air changed. The world seemed to be waiting for instructions. Even the bandits in the trees seemed to notice something was different, voices muttering to each other rather than shouting insults across the settlement.

And then the trees went wild. As if they had come alive, they whipped their branches back and forth, shuddering and hurling men across the forest. Leon’s eyes widened as he saw a bandit hurled from one tree straight into the trunk of another with a sickening crunch. The hairs along his arms stood on end, and he wasn’t sure whether it was because of the magic he could _taste_ in the air, or if it was out of awe that this scrawny lad, who grumbled along behind them and served his king with loyalty most knights could only aspire to, held this much raw power in his veins. And yet still he fussed over them, took their teasing and made their dinner.

At last the tree stilled and Merlin’s eyes faded to their usual blue. The knights turned to him, mouths open and eyes wide. Merlin, still kneeling, looked up at them. “Uh…”

“Arthur Pendragon!”

Instantly all shields rose again, all swords at the ready. And this time Merlin stood next to Arthur in a fighting stance, his hands open and cupping the air in clawed fingers as if he was about to cast fireballs at anyone who tried to face his king. He might actually be able to do so, thought Leon, dazed.

A tall, fur cloaked man stumbled out of the forest, blood dripping from his bald head through his thick, pointed beard. “Prepare to meet your doom, son of Uther.” He pointed his sword at him. The point weaved unsteadily.

“Lay down your weapon,” Arthur yelled back. “Your men are fallen, your strongholds taken. You are defeated.”

The man laughed, high pitched and manic. “You’d think so, wouldn’t you?” He threw back his head and whistled.

At first it seemed as though nothing had happened. Then Leon heard a squelching sound, like something walking slowly through a marsh. Another set of footsteps joined it, and another. 

“What is that?” whispered Gwaine, glaring into the gloom of the trees. Merlin shifted beside Arthur, his eyes darting from side to side.

“They’re called barghest,” said the bandit, almost conversationally. “A little gift from your sister, your majesty.”

A creature emerged from the shadows, grey skinned and foul. Like a huge dog in shape, its skin was grey and hairless, bone and sinew standing out as if it were one step away from an animated skeleton. Its eyes glowed a sickly green and its feet…

“Why the _hell_ are its feet _backwards_?” hissed Gwaine. “What in _God’s name…”_

Two more beasts emerged to surround the knights, their twisted feet dragging on the ground, making the strange marshy noise every time they moved. One curled its lips back, letting out a rattling growl as glowing saliva dripped off sharp canines.

“Great,” Gwaine muttered. “And I thought giant baby rats were disgusting. My skin is going to crawl away by itself.”

“Stay back,” called Merlin, and even though Leon knew he was more than he’d seemed for all these years, he was still surprised at the confidence in his voice, the assertiveness. “The barghest are demon dogs. Morgana must have called them up with blood magic, they need a life sacrifice to give them full power.”

The bandit chief laughed, but his voice was breathy and weak. He staggered and fell to one knee. “That explains a lot,” he said. Blood dripped down his chin. The three barghest watched him avidly as he gasped and wheezed, and as he lay still, three sets of glowing eyes turned to the group of knights.

Merlin stepped out of formation, arms spread protectively across Arthur. “Stay back, sire. I doubt these can be killed without magic.”

Arthur ignored him and stood by his side, smirking at his friend. “Good thing I have a magic sword and a magic idiot, then, isn’t it?”

Merlin’s head snapped to him and a slow smile spread across his face, like everything good had been given to him.

“Together?” asked Arthur.

He nodded. “Together.”

And then the barghest leaped. Leon’s mind fell to battle, to the opening of senses and the stretching of muscles, the trust in his shield brothers as they parried and thrust, only just holding back the beasts with slavering, acid-dropping jaws. Elyan’s arrows glanced off impenetrable hide, but they served as a distraction for Gwaine to leap back to his feet. Percival’s great muscles swinging his sword into the hound’s throat should have left no room for survival, but the steel seemed to glance past the flesh, and Leon leaped forwards to shield his friend from a counter attack. They fought. They did not allow themselves to consider their failure. They fought with ferocity they refused to call desperation, mind calm and calculating their next movement.

And then an inhuman shriek, a blasting heat, and the smell of sulphur and lye. “To me!” roared Arthur, and they turned as the second barghest was engulfed in flame. The king, his cloak of scarlet, his armour glinting silver, leaped through the oily smoke that remained, forth to engage the final hellhound. Behind him marched Merlin, and though he remained unarmoured, unprotected and unarmed, the very air around him seemed to vibrate with power. 

Arthur’s shield held back the barghest’s jaws for but a moment, and he cast it across the clearing as the creature’s saliva began to smoke and burn through the wood. Leon raised his own sword, ready to throw himself forward and distract it, at the very least, while Arthur could regroup.

“Now,” shouted Arthur, and without a glance to anyone else, with complete trust in his companion, he leaped forward, unshielded and open, only his sword before him. Leon’s breath burst from him in horror, for they had all seen what use steel was against the barghest. But as the point of the sword touched the hide of the creature, there came a guttural roar, deep as the earth and carrying the weight of mountains. Merlin stood, one hand outstretched, crying words of magic as his eyes glowed gold, and Arthur’s sword shone as though it were being forged anew. The metal sliced through the chest of the last barghest with a scream that spoke of fire and ice, and vanished in a cloud of foul smelling smoke.

The forest was silent but for their breath. For a moment all hung suspended, the king with his sword outstretched, the sorcerer with his hand still raised. The entire world paused on an inhale.

Then Arthur laughed. His face crinkled up around a wide grin, showing sharp white teeth and joy. He sagged forwards for a moment, his hands on his knees for a breath, then sheathed his sword and walked to Merlin with his arms out.

Merlin's smile answered Arthur’s, his eyes almost shut with the force of it, and when Arthur pulled him close and slapped him on the back, his chin tucked over his shoulder and his face pressed to his hair, Merlin’s hands tightened on the chainmail as he held him close.

The wind whispered through their minds, _The two sides are balanced_ , and as the knights glanced at each other to find the source of the words, Arthur and Merlin’s bodies glowed gold. The gold of Merlin’s magic, the gold of the sun on Arthur’s hair, gleamed around them as they held on tight to each other and laughed and spoke as equals. The gold sank to the floor and took to the air, and the knights each gasped as the light spread in a wave, a vast ripple through the fabric of the world, and passed through them, leaving them refreshed and with the smell of honey and rising sap. 

_The Golden Age begins_ , the world sang. And Leon felt his blood sing back. But while the depth of his very soul knew what they had witnessed was enormous, and spoke of a turning point for the world, it all seemed to him rather unimportant. Because he was busy smiling at two young men who had finally, _finally_ learned they could trust each other in every way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Barghest are a thing. I had to find that out, and now you know too, because I like to suffer my nightmares in company. They're a Lancashire legend, apparently. STG childhood phobias of rabid dogs and the Hound of the Baskervilles combined to bring you this chapter ;)
> 
> Second thing, that hug came from the fact that some meanie informed me via tumblr that the lovely, adoring hug Arthur gives Merlin when he finds him in A Servant of Two Masters will have been completely forgotten because Merlin had the fomorrah in his neck :( I had to give Merls his hug back!
> 
> Thank you so much for reading and being awesome! Come hang out on Tumblr if you like, where I'm Gold-From-Straw ^_^ Hopefully my second FTH fic will be along soon too!


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